Saint Laurent Page #5

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But his gestures were dirty.

Like yours.

When I think of him, I think of you.

When I think of you,

I think of tvventy boys

standing out against the sky.

I think again of Mohamed.

I think again of Claude.

Do you remember him?

That night,

my heart was pounding so hard,

I thought my chest would burst.

I can still hear him undoing his belt,

mounting me,

and penetrating me with blind violence.

I thought it would never stop,

that/ would faint.

That I would die on my knees.

I still recall the smell of the ground,

the taste of the soil

and stones in my mouth.

Do you truly remember the way I do?

I have the clothes you left on the ground.

Probably so I would pick them up.

I sti/I recall their gaze on me.

I thought I could relax

after they had all discharged,

but the opposite was true.

The very opposite.

I don't know what Pierre said

to terrify you so much,

to make you vanish,

but I shall go on writing to you.

To tell you.

I haven't left him but I'll carry on.

You refuse to see me but I'll carry on.

I returned to the railway station urinal

and I'll return there again,

as I shall to the building site.

I want to see once more

Ali, Claude, Mohamed...

Because Ali and Claude are you.

Mohamed is you.

I want to see all those I don't know

who'll lead me to the dawn light.

The dawn that terrifies me so.

You see, Jacques,

I love bodies without souls

because the soul is elsewhere.

Mr. Berg said

to bring this to your room, sir.

Get the hell out!

A bad time, I think.

It's always a bad time.

I have nothing to work on.

I'll speak to Mr. Berg. Don't worry.

Hello, Yves.

Hello, sir.

Michle, will you do me a favor?

Of course, Mr. Saint Laurent.

Could you post this for me

discreetly, please?

- All right.

- Discreetly, please.

I didn't speak to you, I gave you nothing.

It wasn't me, you haven't seen me.

I'm no longer here.

Hey, darling.

Where is Saint Laurent?

Where is Yves?

I don't know.

Maybe he's just a perfume now.

His dog is dead.

Too much drugs.

Overdose.

I heard.

It was its relationship with life, you know.

Well, who cares.

I'm cold.

Me too.

I'm naked...

And you're wearing Saint Laurent.

You b*tch.

I know.

Get closer, get warm.

I feel stupid,

what are we doing?

We're playing with the masculine codes,

I guess.

The codes of power.

Yeah.

Maybe.

But I feel really stupid.

You're beautiful.

And I'm f***ing naked.

Erika, step back please.

Yeah.

Vibeke, look down...

and think of nothing.

Vibeke, put your leg like this.

Yes, good.

Erika, just come a little closer.

And your head a little down.

Yeah.

Maybe he's dead, you know?

Poor Yves.

He was just a little boy.

That's beautiful, don't move.

Honor and loyalty, loyalty

Let us march, legionnaires

In the mud and the burning sand

Let us march

with light souls and brave hearts

Let us march, legionnaires

Everywhere battle rages

We see the 1st Foreign

An example of heroism and Courage

Covered in laurels of glory

We're all volunteers...

Hello, Madame Aillot.

Mr. Saint Laurent is unwell.

He won't be joining us.

But your dress is ready

as per his instructions.

- Lovely, isn't it?

Perfect.

Shall we try it on?

All right, let's do that.

Shh.

I'm sorry.

Mr. Saint Laurent also requires

plucked eyebrows now.

Yes, very good.

Here.

The show is approaching.

We have nothing to work on.

Yes, I know.

Isn't this all insignificant?

No.

Sometimes, I close my eyes

and see clothes gliding and floating.

Just shapes and colors in motion in the air.

But when I open my eyes,

I see only heavy, dark things.

Come on.

Yves.

Ah.

Here's Joan Crawford.

Dressed in a terribly boring way.

Forgive me, miss, it's not you.

You're ravishing.

But I'm sick of seeing myself.

Moujik.

There you are.

My dear Christophe, I feel like a monster.

Not at all.

No, you're very handsome.

Can I have the same color

as Johnny Hallyday?

It's not a very nice color,

Mr. Saint Laurent.

Do it for me, please.

All right, for you then.

Thank you.

You're a darling.

So are you.

Are you smoking a lot lately, sir?

It depends.

- Here we go. Johnny's color.

- Mmm.

Shall I serve you, sir?

Yes, thank you.

Where's Moujik?

Right next to you, sir.

Oh, yes...

By day, he's fine.

But at night, he becomes horrendous.

Imagine seeing a man

you've loved for 18 years out of control.

I can't bear seeing it any longer.

It's wiser to live separately.

Loulou, he tried to kill me. To kill me!

Last night, you understand?

Iwon't abandon him,

but I can't bear that life anymore.

I'm doing it to protect myself.

By protecting myself, I can protect him too.

He's just...

...so incredibly fragile, it drives him mad.

How happy you are!

You need nothing. You have it all.

Wealth, beauty, youth!

It's beautiful being that way.

Yet you're already weary of this life.

You no longer want it.

Look,

it's a lock of your baby hair.

See how soft your hair is?

Can I write to you?

The maid will send you my address.

Come back soon.

[don't love you, /don't love you...

Come back.

Like this?

There. DO you like it?

The neck like this?

/don't love you...

Come back.

Hands on your hips.

Smile.

Turn round.

There.

No, Aunt Rene,

I don't like the dress. You must be perfect.

It's not so bad here.

They take good care of me.

It's true, they adore me.

They give me all the pills I want.

Uppers, downers...

Pills to travel,

to sleep...

You seem a little better.

Optalidon.

They're crazy,

locking you in the pharmacy.

Has Pierre had my sketches

brought from Marrakech?

Yes, don't worry.

I wanted to try things.

Go somewhere else.

Ithink I found grace.

"This exhibition shows

that a couturier can and must be

"an illusionist, a child, an astronomer,

"a simpleton and a genius,

"a Sunday or nocturnal writer,

"an imitator, a tamer,

"a smooth talker, a clairvoyant. "

Herv Guibert wrote that,

didn't he?

Yes. When was it?

Five or six years ago.

Shortly after, I started to work

on a collection in chiffon.

It was a few months

before the death of Fabrice,

the owner of Le Palace.

Is Le Palace still open?

Yes, it is.

But it's gone downhill since he went.

- The soul's gone.

- Mmm.

Les Bains is boring too.

The music is getting industrial.

- It's like going to a factory.

- Mmm.

Do people talk about me as a...

...a has-been?

Why do you ask?

I don't know. No reason.

I feel

as if I've become a nail varnish

in a cheap store...

Or a handbag.

That's not a has-been.

YSL has become interplanetary, that's all.

Perhaps.

But, right now...

it's more a case of Y...

...am I all alone?

I've brought Voici. Here.

Thank you, that's kind.

I'd like to stop.

But I can't.

Your letter worried me a little.

Yes, I'm sorry.

But I felt really terrible.

I didn't know who else to write to.

Have you been able to do anything for me?

Of course.

Thank you, Pascal.

Thank you.

What do you want from Friedrich?

Everything!

You're mad!

I want what's mine!

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